


I'll Be Home For Christmas (if only in my heart)

by wanderlustlover



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:32:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2850959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderlustlover/pseuds/wanderlustlover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He promises her Steve’s coming, but there’s something hollow in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Home For Christmas (if only in my heart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alemara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alemara/gifts).



> This took root in my head after I gave Laura the prompt "Extended duty over the Holidays" for [12 Days of Jersey III](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2847569). As this was definitely more than 100 words, I decided to write it for her, and give it to her as an additional Christmas present this morning.

Christmas Eve dinner comes and goes. 

The evening movie plays, and then another. 

Grace falls asleep at his side. When he picks her up to take her to bed, the disappointed look, after she looks around the room, tugging wrinkles around her exhausted eyes, goes straight to Danny’s heart like a knife. He promises her Steve’s coming, but there’s something hollow in it when he’s watching the tree twinkle, perfect and gay, covered in a hundred ornaments, in the dark, eyes moving to the window and the door too often to focus on anything else. 

His family members one by one are slipping away, fingers at elbows, and quietly not bragging, even though they look relieved to be together, to have each other, especially in comparison. But his sisters give him a hopeful, sympathetic smile each still. The tree is still twinkling when his mom puts a hand on his hair to smooth it back, before kissing the top of his head and squeezing his shoulder, saying only, “Try not to stay up too late, Daniel.” 

He says something. A whirl of words, a bluster of bravado, but they are even more hollow now and he can’t remember what they are even a minute later. He waits until he's alone and then looks at his phone, but he doesn’t dial it this time. There's only Kono's text still blinking from right after midnight.

He’s been dialing it all day, listening to the same message and giving long-winded details about what was happening. The wrangling of the tree. Grace covered in flour, with green icing on her nose. The best cocoa recipe yet. The way the kids are pretending to be him in the snowball fight. Who cooked what and what terrible things have happened. Where the elf is. How many presents have his name. 

That he’s _missed_. That he’s **loved**. 

That everyone can’t wait to see him when he gets here.

Deciding weeks ago it’s more important for Steve to feel he is here, in spirit, in their hearts, openly, all this time, than to keep from telling him and evoking any guilt or sadness. That the more important thing will always be Steve knowing his family is thinking of him no matter where he is. 

It still hurts when the tree clicks off and the living room goes pitch black at one. When there’s no one on the walk out the window, and no message on his phone still. He knows there are more important things than Christmas in the world. But. It's Christmas. He trudges up to his room, with the too big, too cold bed, full of too much not knowing.

He’s not sleeping well, twisting and turning and he knows that's why he wakes so easily. The door opens, and Danny glances at the clock. He grumbles, crotchety, all fuss, “You’re late.”

“I still have three hours,” Steve’s voice slides through the dark like a fire warming even the air he touches, and Danny has to wonder if he’s half-asleep because the next second Steve is slipping into the bed next to him, all warm skin and whatever he was wearing mostly gone.

Steve is pulling Danny into him at the same time as Danny is pushing into him. Arms and hands going everywhere. Not caring that Steve's cheeks and neck are still chilled, as he buries his face in Steve’s shoulder, insulting every inch of his perfectly in one piece body, “What did you do, roll in the snow first?” 

Steve laughed, warm and broad into his hair. Shaking his chest and Danny against him. Danny who slides a hand out to feel it under his fingers. Hand on an uncracked breastbone, unpunctured lungs. The way it should be. Warm, and rumbling, partnered with his steady, familiar heart beat under it.

“Shut up,” Danny snapped back, but it was too soft, his shoulders relaxing in a way they haven’t in days. Breathing in Steve’s skin, even before remembering to say. “Some of us were sleeping. Go to sleep. Your little hoard of brainwashed fans will be in this bed as soon as they realize you're here.”

Danny can feel the unruly, too pleased, absolutely right, smile that presses into his temple, followed by the slowly warming fingers that curl the base of his neck, thumb stroking up the back of his neck gently. He’s most of the way asleep just on that touch and Steve breathing beneath him, when Steve whispers, soft as the snow falling outside. “Merry Christmas, Danno.”


End file.
